She feels her body thrust forward, feels the belt tighten across her stomach, feels her muscles tense in response. Before her eyes have sprung open, her hands move downward, tugging at the seat belt, pulling it loose.

On the other side of the windshield stands a tree: the wide, ancient trunk of an oak, so close as to be surreal. The hood of their Mercedes seems to have been compressed to half its former length, the front end now a mangled snarl of metal.

“Lil? Are you OK?”

She turns to Daniel. His cheeks have drained of color as though he has been put through the washing machine at too high a heat.

“Lil?”

She nods, even though she does not know whether it is true. Her neck aches and her mouth feels dry and her hand rubs gently across her stomach, trying to soothe the thirteen-centimeter baby within.

“I don’t know what happened. It was just a really sharp corner. I only lost control for a second. I was barely even speeding.” He is gabbling and she stretches out an arm, strokes the back of his neck.

“We should probably call the police, shouldn’t we? Aren’t you supposed to report damage to trees? I’m sure I read that somewhere.”

Daniel shakes his head. “We can’t. You know we can’t. I had a few glasses of wine with lunch. I’m fine, I’m perfectly OK to drive. But you never know with Breathalyzers. You don’t know how sensitive they might be.”

There is fear in his voice. It is not something Lily is accustomed to hearing in him. “That’s why I wanted to drive, Daniel. That’s why I said I’d drive.”

There is enough accusation in her voice—more than she’d intended—for Daniel to pull her hand from the back of his neck, for him to turn to her with an expression caught somewhere between hurt and anger. “For God’s sake, I was trying to be nice. I didn’t want you to have to drive all that way. I just wanted you to relax. And you know full well I’m absolutely fine driving after a couple of glasses. You know that.” His voice is imploring: he needs to know she believes him.

Lily’s head aches and she knows this is neither the time nor the place for an argument. All she wants now is to get home. “I know.”

Relief washes across Daniel’s face, prompting him into action.

She listens as he begins to make telephone calls, as he locates a local garage and persuades a mechanic—as only Daniel can—to bring a tow truck out on a Sunday afternoon and transport them back to London for an absurdly exorbitant fee. He does not call the AA, Lily knows, because there is a risk they will ask questions he would rather not answer.

All the time she listens to Daniel—on the phone, as they wait for the mechanic to arrive, throughout the journey home perched high up in a tow truck—Lily’s palm does not leave her stomach.